


Misfits

by cincoscan



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: (sorry Anthony), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Literary References & Allusions, Minor Character Death, Multi, POV Multiple, Platonic Relationships, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, The boys are just kinda sad, Violence, maybe romantic relationships??, more tags will be added as the story gets updated, trust me i know where im going with this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoscan/pseuds/cincoscan
Summary: The shot of a 50. caliber sniper rifle was the end for an innocent soul, but the beginning of something bigger.---Or, the BBS Superhero AU that no one asked for.





	Misfits

The sound of police sirens bounced off the skyscraper walls, and the scream of civilians rung in Ohmwrecker's ears, making him wince. He briefly glanced over at his group of friends, before back at the task at hand.

“You know what, I wouldn’t be too surprised if they were more scared of us than, well, _that thing._ ” Delirious mumbled, eliciting a small laugh from Cartoonz.

“You’ve got a point. It doesn’t matter how many times we save their asses, they still think we’re gonna turn around and be just like Lui and MiniLa--” Cartoonz was cut off as a truck was hurled at the three of them, the group dodging it with ease before being lulled into a tense silence. Ohm gave a small signal with his hand, before separating. Crouching behind overturned cars, he slowly made his way into position. From where he was crouched, her could hear Delirious and Cartoonz yelling at the creature.

“Hey, over here shithead!”

“Come and get me!” The two teased, and aggravated the monster, hoping to enrage it enough for its guard go down. Ohmwrecker crouched in position, and when he heard the final scream from the monster, he knew it was time.

 

They were an organised little group. They knew how to make do with what they had. Cartoonz, had his super strength, Delirious was a telekinetic, mind controlling weirdo, and Ohm was basically a cooler, more talented version of the Avatar. Well, at least that's how Bryce explained it. They were a quirky bunch, but they figured things out. It had all been more chaotic after ‘the incident’ had taken place, but time fixes everything. Now, as Ohm jumped out behind the giant creature before him, he was finally hit with how utterly disgusting this thing was. It was green, scaly, and towered over just about everything in the visicity. Its face was putrid. A dirty, snotty, slimy surface that made Ohmwrecker feel like he needed a long shower after just glancing at it. A mutant. He had no time to consider how odd it was that a mutant had wandered into Manhattan, though, as his hands reached out and electricity flowed between his fingers, before shooting out at the creature. The mutant cried out, flailing its arms and taking out a streetlight, before turning on Ohm. It made a grab for the smaller man, missing by an inch as he conjured a large stream of water and sent it straight to the beast's face. With the creature now blinded, Ohm signaled Delirious, running back for cover as he got confirmation back from his friend. A scream--A battle cry--escaped Delirious’ lips as he stared down the massive, grotesque creature. The mutant froze in place, before slowly falling to its knees, sending up a cloud of dust, but never breaking eye contact with Ohmwrecker’s dear old friend. Ohm crossed his fingers, praying Delirious would follow the plan. He had a tendency to like to put on a show, and usually a pretty gruesome one. He’d never understand why he sided with Cartoonz and himself after ‘the incident’. Delirious was bloodthirsty when he wanted to be, and that was exactly what Wildcat had wanted. He wanted Lui’s head, and by having people like Delirious siding with him, that was exactly how he’d get it.

 

Maybe Delirious could hear his silent pleas, or just really wasn’t in the mood for watching the creature suffer. Whatever it was, he followed through with the plan, and the mutant was rendered unconscious, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud, and an ear piercing screech from the cars it crushed beneath its weight. The fight was easy, but the circumstances were baffling. Now, Ohm was no expert when it came to mutants (That was Bryce’s area of expertise), but he knew how those things were made. Human experimentation and black magic. A deadly duo. He stepped over to Delirious, who sat on the floor with his head against the brick wall behind him. He slid down to sit beside him, staying silent as he watched Cartoonz talk quickly on the phone a few feet away.

“Tired?” He asked, glancing over at Delirious’s form. He knew he didn’t need to ask. His answer was always the same.

“Exhausted. Those damn mutants are resilient, i’ll give ‘em that.” he hummed, closing his eyes. Everyone knew Delirious’ abilities, though powerful, took quite the toll on him; both physically and emotionally. They used to be able to work around it, when they were first starting out and the only people they fought were measly bank robbers, but as time went on and they began to go against more powerful individuals, it became more and more of an obstacle. It became the worst after ‘the incident’, and hadn’t gotten better since. They’d gone from eight to three in a matter of days, so nobody was really blaming him.

“They’re sending Agent Dracula and his team to pick up this guy, so they want us to get out of here so his men have space to work.” Cartoonz said, approaching the two of them.

“Well, this is gonna be a hell of a mess to clean up. I’ll happily leave before Mike-- I mean Agent Satt-- ends up guilting me into helping them.” Ohm said, pulling himself up before extending a hand to Delirious, which the latter gladly accepted.

* * *

The trip home was silent, but that was just normal for them. Often after fights, they’d head home in silence, wash the sweat and grime off from themselves, maybe warm up some hot pockets, and then crash in their respective beds. It was a routine they’d had since they first started doing this thing, back before Brock retired, and when Ohm was still Michelle’s semi-roommate. Some nights, though, things changed, and when the three walked into their home--a penthouse that somehow, at one point, had twelve superheroes living in it at once (you can imagine they got quite a few noise complaints)--they could tell it was one of those nights. They entered to the smell of burgers and the soft hum of music in the other room.

“You know what, Bryce is my best friend. Fuck you Jonathan, you’ve never made me burgers. You’re being replaced.” Luke said, laughing as the blue clad man beside him gave him a shove. Ryan grinned, slipping off his dusty shoes at the door, and padding toward the kitchen. He untied his signature mask on the way, shoving it in his pocket as he entered.

“Oh brycey~.” Ryan sang, grinning before running his fingers through his tousled hair in an attempt to tame it. Bryce rolled his eyes at the pet name, much like he always did, but let a soft smile grace his lips anyway. He’d never admit it, but he didn't mind the nicknames as much as he made Ryan think he did. “Honestly, why you’ve never considered becoming a chef is beyond me.” Ryan said, leaning against the counter beside Bryce and glancing into the pot on the stove. Vegetables. He sighed, knowing they’d have to hear Jonathan’s rant about vegetables for the millionth time.

“I’m not _that_ good. I hate cooking on top of that, so I’d probably be horrible chef. I only make you guys food because if I didn’t I’m sure you’d skip eating altogether.” He replied, moving over to grab plates from the cabinets. Ryan hummed in response, agreeing silently with the younger man. He straightened up and grabbed the cutlery from the drawer “Just set that on the plates. Oh, and go get Luke and Jon for me. God knows they’d never hear me if I tried to yell for them.” Bryce commented, noting the silverware Ryan held.

 

Leaving Bryce to his own devices, Ryan made his way toward his two other friends, their voices echoing off the walls on the main floor. If he were to be honest, the place they lived wasn’t exactly perfect. He was kind of jealous at times that the ones who’d left didn’t have to be bombarded with nostalgia every time they opened their eyes, or even memories of times where Ryan, of all people, was left petrified with fear. The penthouse was beautiful, anyone with eyes could see that, but it held secrets that even Bryce, who practically thrived off learning the secrets and mysteries of places, had never uncovered. Secrets that even Ryan wasn’t aware of. They lay buried and wedged in almost every room. There was one under the leg of the home’s large meeting room table. Another placed delicately in the empty space on the bookshelf inside the library, between a copy of _The Scarlet Letter_ and _Lord of the Flies_ , where the ghost of a book once was. The most notable one, though, was hidden in the second living room, squished underneath the cushion of the chair Ryan was staring at from where he stood in the doorway. The second living room was one Ryan avoided diligently. He treated it like the plague, and after ‘the incident’, no one blamed him for it. He tore his gaze away from the chair, and looked over to Luke and Jon, who, to his surprise, were staring at him with worry.

“Ryan, you lo--”

“Bryce wants us for dinner, it’s ready.” he said quickly, turning around in an attempt to get as far away from that blasted room as possible. Jonathan and Luke clambered off the couch, their socks sliding on the hardwood as they followed after him.

A hand grabbed Ryan’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks “Ryan--”

“I can’t- I don’t want to talk about it. It's been five years. I’m okay.” he said, sighing.

“And I, no, we respect that,” Luke said, pausing “But we really need to talk about all these mutants popping up. I’m sure you know exactly who I’m thinking about when you try and narrow down the people we know that could be capable of that.” He said, hand falling from Ryan's shoulder as they slowly continued toward the kitchen once more.

“Yeah, yeah, but I don’t want to just jump to conclusions and blame Craig for everything. For all we know it co--” Ryan was cut off.

“How many warlocks do you know that specialize in black magic? Because if you know someone else other than Mini, please enlig--”

“Finally! You guys took forever. Foods on the table.” Bryce walked up to them, cutting off their conversation with a big, oblivious grin.

“That’s great, Bryce. Thanks a ton, dude.” Jonathan spoke up after a moment, shooting a glare over at Ryan and Luke that told them to keep their mouths shut, before returning Bryce’s grin and walking with the taller man to the kitchen.

* * *

  _The joke wasn’t even that funny, but after Scotty, Lui, Brian, and Craig decided to just up and leave them, they’d take any opportunity to just laugh. The joyous sound filled the room, and Anthony threw his head back with a loud, exaggerated cackle as Tyler made yet another comment about how ridiculous Ryan was when it came to planning things out for missions._

_“Dude, seriously. We could just be like ‘Oh yeah, Mike tipped us off that there's gonna be a gang fight near the harbour.’ and you’d whip out 10 different notebooks filled with detailed plans on how to stop them. Ryan, man, I can stop time, I’m sure I could stop some gang leaders too without being there three hours early like I’m trying to get through customs at an airport.” Tyler said, grinning as Ryan shrugged and chuckled._

_“I just like to be a little prepared.” He replied, leaning back into the couches soft cushions._

_“A little prepared? A little prepared is Anthony looking like he’s ready to run out of this room any second just incase Tyler tries to pull something again. You prepare like we’re about to face off against God himself.” Marcel retorted, laughing._

 

 _The atmosphere was lighthearted, and if it hadn’t been for the pictures of their former friends still on the walls of the room, they probably wouldn’t have even been a thought in their minds. For hours they sat there, unbothered by anyone. From noon until the sun began to set, the smiles never left their lips. Empty soda cans were sitting on the side tables, and the fifth Harry Potter movie played quietly on the TV. They’d decided that since Anthony had never watched any of them, that they just_ had _to have a marathon. Marcel was fast asleep, stretched out of the loveseat with his face in the cushion, exhausted from a combination of the former night's battle against Phantom, and the rather nasty argument he’d had with Scotty as his friend returned to claim the last of his belongings. Anthony’s full attention was on the movie, the man wide awake as he sipped on a Coke. Every spell cast captured his attention. Who knew it was so easy to entertain him? Tyler was dozing off on the couch, yawning as he fought to stay awake. His eyes drooped, and the only thing that kept him fighting off sleep was Ryan’s promise that he’d return from the kitchen with a plate full of Cosco taquitos. Ryan had left not long before to grab food for the three of them who were still awake, returning fifteen minutes later with said promised plate of taquitos and a very thrilled David in tow. He walked in, the words “I’ve got food and a friend,” falling from his lips before everything seemed to slow down. All he could hear was the shot of a 50. calibre sniper rifle echoing off the buildings, and then the crash of the glass window breaking. He could hear David’s yells for help, and Marcel’s screams for Anthony. All he could see was Anthony’s body crumpling, falling off the chair as a pool of blood formed beneath him. When the silence filled the room, once everyone had ran to see what the commotion was, and while Ryan was still standing there, petrified with fear holding a plate full of taquitos for_ Anthony _; Sirius Black died in the Ministry of Magic, and Harry’s cries of anguish replicated the same emotions they all felt._

 

_And Tyler? Well, he was still staring at the building where the sniper had been. The building where their very own Lui Calibre had been standing, red jacket, mask and all. The same building where Lui shot and killed Anthony from, and then removed his mask, and grinned, like it was all a joke. Tyler saw him, cursed, and promised he’d kill Lui and whoever else organised this, with his own bare hands._

* * *

 Ryan sat up with a jolt, thin sheets wrapped around his legs and chest heaving. His eyes were wide, and it took him a few moments to remember where he was.

“I-I’m not...It’s not…” he trailed off, “Five years Ryan...It was five years ago...It- Anthony is in a better place…”  his shaky reassurances were doing nothing to calm him. He couldn’t tell himself that it was okay, because it wasn’t. Lui was still out there, and so was Craig. He couldn’t tell himself that there was nothing he could have done, because there was. He could have stayed, and maybe seen the shot being lined up. He could have reacted, and gotten Anthony out of the way. There was so much he could have done to prevent his friend's death. He shakily got up, tugged on a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt before making his way out of his bedroom and down the hall. It was times like this, when Ryan woke up in a cold sweat because of these terrible, haunting nightmares, that the ghosts (both literal and figurative) that walked the penthouse's halls seemed to retreat. As Ryan descended the stairs to the main level, he realised that much like he usually was, Bryce was awake. He sat quietly on the couch, Judge Judy playing on the TV, and the light bouncing around the dark room. Ryan leant against the doorframe, taking a moment to watch the younger man. Sometimes he felt bad about coming downstairs and pestering Bryce after his nightmares, and sometimes he would try and convince himself to stop. The only problem was Ryan was selfish sometimes, he couldn’t help it. Alone time with Bryce was rare, much to his demise. Bryce was a bookworm,one who prefered to keep to himself. To top it off, Ryan’s job as a superhero didn’t help much when it came to having quality time with friends.

 

“Ryan, I know you’re there.” Bryce spoke, still staring forward as his voice ripped through the silence. The bearded man’s eyes widened, mouth opening to form an apology before he was stopped in his tracks by Bryce once more. “C’mere,” He patted the spot next to him “I can’t sleep either.”

Ryan slowly joined Bryce on the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes. “You know what, maybe you’re taking after Jon. You could be a psychic, doing all that sensing stuff. According to Luke that how Jonathan started out.” He mumbled, peering through his lashes over at the other man. Bryce smiled slightly and shook his head.

“Nope. Definitely not a psychic, and i’ve got two pieces of proof. One, Jon always talks about having a connection with another layer of reality, which I’ve never experienced. Two, I only knew you were there because your energy was the strongest. You’d be surprised how the presence of someone else in the room really affects the whole aura of the place.” He explained, yawning. Bryce was different from the rest of them, which was generally the reason why he didn’t go out into battles like the rest of them. He didn’t like to say Bryce was weaker, because he wasn’t. His abilities just weren’t as suited for battle as the rest of theirs were. He could sense the abilities and powers of others, and could identify the powers someone possessed in most cases. Ryan hummed, closing his eyes once more.

 

Silence stretched between the two of them for what could have been an eternity, before Bryce spoke up once more “Was it the nightmare again?” he spoke quietly, staring at the smaller man. The short nod he got in response was enough of an answer for him. His arms opened slightly, beckoning the other man forward. Ryan shuffled closer, resting his head on Bryce's shoulder and happily allowing for the others arms to wrap around him. Bryce knew _of_ the nightmares, but not what they were about. Ryan wasn’t someone who liked people to know his vulnerabilities, so it didn’t matter how much he trusted Bryce, how much he cared for him, he wouldn't tell. He didn’t want this memory of his to be used against him, but all the same he didn’t want to take this weight off his shoulders only to throw it onto his friends. Even Luke and Jon had no idea what exactly his nightmares were about, but they’d been able to make some pretty accurate assumptions. “It's alright, you know. I know it's tough and all, and whatever these nightmares are about can’t be good, but we’re all here for you. _I’m_ here for you. I would never judge you for anything. Even if you were having nightmares about Scooby Doo, I’d still be here for you,” He mumbled, fingers picking at the hem of his shirt as he stared off at the wall across from them. “I’d never be able to judge you for being scared. Considering what you face on a daily basis with the guys, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t, in some way, shape or form scarred by it. Luke’s told me about some pretty messed up stuff you guys have seen. Makes me kinda glad sometimes that I’m not out there to see it.” Bryce sighed slightly, and Ryan hummed, indicating that he still had his attention.

“I’m glad you aren’t out there to see some of that stuff too. It's hard enough as it is, with Jon and all.” He replied, eyes closed. They fell into a temporary lapse of silence once more. That tended to happen often but they didn’t mind. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but more of a comfortable one. “What about you? Whats got you up at,” He glanced over at the clock “Three in the morning?” His voice was barely above a whisper, though, even if he were to yell, his voice would only sound like a squeak inside Luke and Jonathan’s rooms. It was an old habit from when everyone still lived in the house, and people were passed out on the couches at all hours of the day. He was sure Brian wouldn’t have hesitated to beat him to a pulp if he was yelling or even talking normally at this time of night.

“Same as you. A night terror,” He said, both his speech pausing as well as his fingers. Both started up once more as he began talking again “It was about you guys actually. I was locked in like, this cage or something. Trapped. I couldn’t get out, and you guys were coming to save me. You guys were fighting the guys who captured me, but then they ended up, killing you guys,” He shuddered “You were the last one left Ryan, the last one. They trapped you in the corner, and I couldn't see you, but I could hear you screaming...God, Ryan, it was the worst, and I felt so useless. I couldn’t save you. Any of you.” Bryce’s voice became smaller and smaller as he described the dream, and Ryan frowned. “It's even worse when you think about it too much, which sadly I’ve been doing. I’ve realized that if i wasn’t so damn useless, I would have been able to help. You wouldn’t have died, Ryan.”

“It's not real, though, Bryce. It just a dream. I’m still here. Happy, healthy, and alive.” Ryan tried to reassure the younger man, lifting his head up to meet the taller mans eyes.

“Maybe it's not real now, but that could happen at any point. You could die at any time and I wouldn’t be able to save you. Luke and Jon could walk in that door one day, and you might not be there. Hell, one day you guys just might not come home, and I’ll turn on FOX only to find out that you were killed in action…” He trailed off, and Ryan was left speechless. He only returned its head to its spot, and closed his eyes. His heart was telling him to comfort Bryce, to console him, but his brain was saying otherwise. He couldn’t just comfort Bryce because he knew he was right. He could die any day now. Every time he slipped into his super suit and went out there to fight against whichever villain that wanted to control New York _this time,_ he could very easily never come back.

“I won’t.” He mumbled.

“What?” the other replied, furrowing his brow.

“I won’t die on you. Or at the very least I’ll make sure Luke and Jon don’t. I can’t promise my safety, but I can promise that as long as I’m out with them, they won’t be dying.” He explained, yawning as he felt exhaustion fighting to take over. He didn’t end up hearing Bryce’s reply, only heard the low rumble of his voice as he fell asleep.

 

Little did Ryan know, as he’d begun to fall asleep, Bryce had mumbled a very faint “I wish I could hold you to that promise.”

* * *

 The next morning Ryan groggily awoke to the sound of an alarm -- the homes impending attack alarm to be more precise. He let out a quiet groan, lifting his head off one of the couch pillows and squinting at the bright light that flooded the living room.

“Ryan! Get your ass up! Three mutants were spotted near Central Park.” Jonathan called, walking over to the couch he laid sprawled across . Jonathan whacked the back of his head, telling him they didn’t have much time before walking off, most likely to the armoury. Ryan slowly slid off the cushions, Bryce blinking over at him and yawning. He opened his mouth to say something, but before the words could leave his lips Ryan was off, rushing to his room. He pushed the door open, speed walking over to a glass and steel capsule in the corner. Ryan stripped down to his boxers, then situated himself inside, standing upright as he was closed in.

“Initiating in 3...2...1...” various sized metal plates emerged from the sides of the capsule, attaching themselves to weak points in the human body -- Stomach, groin, chest. The shiny plates lined down Ryan’s legs and arms, leaving only a few uncovered spots.

“Segment two in 3...2...1...” The release of air could be heard, and Ryan could feel the fabric hidden in the plates stretching across his bare body and locking into the adjacent, metallic tiles.

“Finalizing in 3...2...1…” the capsule opened up once more to his room, and he quickly stretched to make sure he had optimal mobility. He grabbed his signature mask, which bore his trademark omega sign, quickly situating it so it covered the bottom half of his face, before running back to the front entrance of the penthouse. The second he entered Jonathan was tugging on his jacket -- what his friend described as the crown piece of his suit -- and pulling down his mask. Bryce leant against the doorframe, watching as Luke tapped away at his device, presumably talking to Mike.

“Stay safe, alright? Don’t go dying on me just yet.” Bryce spoke up, sending them a hesitant smile. He always hated seeing them rush out like this.

“You know us, safest motherfuckers in Manhattan. Now, let’s get going before it’s too late.” Luke piped up, pocketing his phone before leading them out the door.


End file.
